


Never Piss Off A Magician

by TheFightingBull



Series: Jinxed, Cursed, Hexed? It's All The Same... [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cursed, Gratuitous Swearing, If Only My Kids Weren't As Stupid As Yours, Let's see what happened, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Prequel, Remember, Slade Mentions Being Turned Into One In Chapter One?, shall we?, to, turned into a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull
Summary: Never piss off a magician.Ever.Especially if you aren’t going to kill them.Slade, who had plenty of experience in these things, knew better. He’d known the moment he’d threatened the bastard that it wasn’t going to be forgotten. There had even been words exchanged about how there were far worse fates than death and how even Deathstroke wasn’t untouchable. If it had not been for the stipulations of the contract to capture the prick, Slade would have killed the bastard to prove him wrong.Patience was normally a great strength for Slade. He waited out a lot of curses, injuries, and even incarceration over the years. Being impatient wouldn’t do him any good so there was no reason to allow himself to get agitated.Unfortunately, his mind wasn’t quite his own. There were… instincts at play. Thanks to being so annoyed over the situation, he was also energized and in need of something to do. So he started pacing. Restlessly. Back and forth along the windowsill.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Series: Jinxed, Cursed, Hexed? It's All The Same... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164857
Comments: 9
Kudos: 115





	Never Piss Off A Magician

Never piss off a magician.

_Ever_.

Especially if you aren’t going to kill them.

Slade, who had plenty of experience in these things, knew better. He’d known the moment he’d threatened the bastard that it wasn’t going to be forgotten. There had even been words exchanged about how there were far worse fates than death and how even Deathstroke wasn’t untouchable. If it had not been for the stipulations of the contract to capture the prick, Slade would have killed the bastard to prove him wrong.

Patience was normally a great strength for Slade. He waited out a lot of curses, injuries, and even incarceration over the years. Being impatient wouldn’t do him any good so there was no reason to allow himself to get agitated.

Unfortunately, his mind wasn’t quite his own. There were… _instincts_ at play. Thanks to being so annoyed over the situation, he was also energized and in need of something to do. So he started pacing. Restlessly. Back and forth along the windowsill.

What was that sound.

He caught a strange smell that triggered something within and before Slade knew it, he was atop a large bird. He clawed and bit into it until it stopped trying to peck at him. Until it stopped moving at all. Worst of all, Slade began to eat the damned thing.

Raw.

He nearly wretched and yet because he wasn’t fully in control of himself, he knew he’d be fine.

The window opened and Slade felt even more confused. Where was he and why had he chosen this windowsill of all the many in the condominium? The man stared down at him and Slade wasn’t sure he recognized him.

The man was handsome though with big green-blue eyes. Young, but haggard enough to believe he was of drinking age. He had shaggy black hair with a white streak near the front. It was an odd look but somehow, Slade got the feeling it wasn’t on purpose. He sniffed at the stranger who looked to be debating on what to do about the cat sitting in his window. Guns, motorcycle, sweat; all things his human nose could pick up easily but being a cat, it was somehow more intensified.

Add to those the fading scent of blood and grease paint.

“No cats allowed,” the man decided with a deep voice that was filled with suspicious irritation. “Go away.”

The window started to come down and Slade found himself easily jumping into the apartment before it closed on him.

“Hey!” the man shouted. “What the fuck?”

Slade didn’t stop once he was inside, either. He kept moving as he ran through what appeared to be a master bedroom, down a short hallway and then into a kitchen space. Once there he leaped onto a countertop, then to the top of the fridge and finally walked on to the cabinets beside the large appliance and stared down at the cursing human.

As the man continued to threaten and name-call, Slade noted that there was blood on his paw. He licked at it, and then to his great mortification, began to groom himself in the way of _all_ felines. He felt so stupid he almost wished he could die. Especially as he behaved like a damned cat in front of an attractive stranger.

“You little one-eyed prick,” the man hissed below him. He didn’t move at first, glaring up at Slade with irritation and disgust until finally, he went about his life.

Slade stayed up on the cabinets watching and learning the man’s movements and habits. They seemed extremely familiar but there was no way he knew the man. Or at least, not the man’s face. He looked down and noticed that there was some mail sitting on the countertop. He made sure the stranger wasn’t nearby before he gracefully jumped down.

He was more than pleased at how silently he’d moved. Maybe there was a perk or two to being stuck as a cat.

He looked down at the name and address of the man.

JT Bennet?

Slade didn’t know anyone by that name. He practically hissed when he read _Gotham_ as the city. Had he really gotten himself turned into a damned cat in Gotham of all places? Luck was most definitely not on his side. He could not risk Nightwing, Robin, or Batman seeing him. Not even that new vigilante… what was his name again?

He didn’t get a chance to think about it as JT came up on him unexpectedly and grabbed hold of his scruff. “Gotcha!”

Slade hissed and then flipped his hind legs up, biting and clawing ruthlessly at the young man’s arm. JT cursed and tried to get his hand away as he shouted angrily, both in pain and in shock.

“You little fucker!” JT shouted as he managed to get away.

Slade took the opportunity to get back on the cabinets. He stared down at the man who scowled up at him with a hateful expression.

“You are _so_ dead!”

_Yeah, right_. Slade thought to himself. _Killing me just might reset me, but you don’t seem like the type to actually be capable of killing a defenseless animal_.

But then, Slade wasn’t really defenseless at all and he got the feeling JT now knew it. He stared down at the ribbons of blood streaking down the man’s arm and forming a few impressive puddles on the kitchen tiles. JT really ought to clean up the mess. Blood would stain.

As if reading his mind, JT sighed heavily and looked over his wounds. “You better not have rabies, or I’ll cut your fucking head off myself!”

He wished he could laugh at that. Instead, he kept his eye on the human as JT went about cleaning himself first, and then the mess all over the floor. At least that would teach the man not to touch him again. Especially not around his throat.

When he closed his eye, Slade hadn’t actually intended to fall asleep, but that’s exactly what he did. His body felt too lethargic to fight it off and he worried in the back of his mind that if he turned into a human, he’d do so atop the man’s cabinets and probably destroy them and whatever they fell on or crashed into.

When Slade open his eye, he was still sitting atop the cabinets, but something _had_ changed. The lights were all out for one. Everything was silent and a few rays of light came in through various windows throughout the apartment. He stretched and clawed at the cabinets he was atop before another tantalizing change caught his attention.

He looked toward where the smell came from and leaped down. There was some deconstructed sushi sitting in a little bowl beside another bowl of water. He sniffed at it and knew there was nothing that would harm him, cat or human, and started to eat the provided food.

The fish was amazing, which shocked Slade because he actually hated Sushi. He preferred blackened catfish or poached halibut. Most sushi had too much rice and he wasn’t that big of a fan of plain old white rice. But JT had removed all rice and seaweed from the pieces of fish provided.

The only reason Slade knew for certain his meal had once been sushi was because he could smell the remnants of the sauces and vegetables that had been wiped or rinsed away.

It was odd to Slade that the man he knew he’d done significant damage to would turn around and provide food and water. If it had been Slade in JT’s shoes, he wouldn’t have been so kind. He probably would have found one of his guns and shot the damned cat for attacking him.

A pained groan sounded from the master bedroom and Slade was moving through the darkened apartment and into the room. Curiosity had always been a failing of his but acting on it was something he’d always regulated. Being a cat however, he feared it would be his impulsivity that would get him killed rather than the famed curiosity.

A man was halfway crawled through the window. But it wasn’t just any man. It was the new vigilante. The one he couldn’t remember from before! The Red Hood? The youngster had actually provided Slade a bit of back up a few weeks ago.

The smell of blood and something tart made itself known and Slade watched as the man began to strip off his jacket and body armor. The wound was deep and still bleeding, that much Slade could see as he sat patiently in the corner and watched The Red Hood.

The helmet came off next and Slade wasn’t surprised to see JT Bennet beneath it. The man’s face was the very picture of pain. Tears were blurring his eyes, a perfectly natural response to certain types of pain, and his face was screwed up as he tried to gently remove the shirt that had been beneath his armor. He’d been stabbed or maybe shot with something between his plating and Slade knew the feeling well enough to have some small bit of sympathy for the youngster.

JT hissed a little as he finally touched the wound. “Ah fuck,” he inhaled sharply. “Still in there. Fuck.”

Slade looked closer and could in fact see that something was stuck in his ribs. It couldn’t be too deep, or the boy would be gagging and choking on his own blood, right? He moved a little closer, sticking to the shadows of the room. Despite all the man had done, he’d yet to turn on a single light.

“Oh man, oh man,” JT breathed as he appeared to grab hold of it. “Oh, don’t be a fucking pussy,” he admonished himself before he yanked hard and cried out.

A spiked metal ball fell to the floor as JT continued to curse and rage about the room in an effort to push the pain from his mind. Slade had seen many, many young men utilize the same technique in the past. Better to get angry and bust up your own shit than to allow yourself to cry in pain for a few minutes.

Actually, Slade was _still_ like that.

As soon as the light from an adjoining bathroom turned on, Slade could hear JT laughing. Another technique. One sometimes needed to laugh to keep from crying. Wanting to see what the boy was up to; he moved under the bed and was shocked at what he found.

The expanse beneath the king-sized bed was a trove of weapons and ammunition. The kid was ready for his own private war in Gotham if it ever came down to it. He tried not to stop and admire and made his way to the edge of the bed’s underbelly and watched JT in the bathroom.

He was wrapping up several other wounds that weren’t nearly as bad as the one left by the strange metal ball.

“Fucking, fuck-fuck!” JT gritted his teeth and Slade watched yet another one of the balls come out of the young man’s left bicep.

“Jason!” Another voice called from the window. Slade wondered if he would have been able to tell so quickly while not a cat and decided he would.

He knew the voice. It was Nightwing, also known as Dick Grayson.

“Jason are you alright?”

“Fuck, off would you, Bluebird!”

Apparently, the J in JT stood for Jason. But wait… Wasn’t that? Ah. It all made sense now. Jason Todd, JT. Slade listened quietly and didn’t move from his hiding spot.

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

“You took his head off!” Dick shouted, furious indignation taking the forefront. He must have decided Jason’s injuries weren’t concerning enough to keep from having it out. The could be a mistake on the original Robin’s part. “You were way out line!”

“I took two of his fucking shots; shots that likely saved Robin and Red Robin, so if you think I’m going to feel bad for that stupid piece of shit, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Silence filled the room and Slade wondered if one was going to attack the other. Instead, the window closed suddenly, and Jason’s boots marched to the same window. Slade heard the lock slide into place and knew that Nightwing had likely taken off in a fit of self-righteous passion.

He decided to crawl out from under the bed, or rather, his instincts told him to. He looked up at Jason and was impressed by what he saw. Scars littered the young man’s muscular body, but they didn’t mar the kid’s natural beauty. If anything, Slade found he was into the young man because he’d clearly survived the un-survivable.

Slade had always appreciated men and women who fought back and returned stronger than ever.

The shirtless young man stared down at him with curious incredulity. Slade could still see all the scratches and deep lacerations to his arm where he’d made his displeasure at being grabbed by his scruff known.

“You gonna attack me again?” Jason scowled.

Slade looked up and was mortified by the low meow that came out of his mouth. He had no idea what he’d tried to convey but the fact was, Slade would do his best not to attack him again. The man looked pretty beat up as it was. He could see several bruises forming against pale flesh, especially around the two places that Jason had pulled the odd ballistics from.

He approached carefully, concerned by the lingering traces of black he saw on Jason’s body. Jason plopped down on the bed, letting his upper body lie down. Slade was glad because it allowed him time to investigate the wounds and that tart, foreign smell.

It was all too easy to confirm as he sniffed at the two wounds the ballistics had come from. Those strange, spikey balls had been poisoned.

He placed a paw on the edge of the bicep and meowed again, trying to get the younger’s attention. Jason was out, but why? Because the poison was killing him or because he was simply exhausted? He had no idea how to help the vigilante while being a damned cat.

An idea sprang to mind, and he so climbed on to Jason’s chest and took a deep breath. He watched Jason’s face and then leaped into the air and landed with all sixteen claws out. The man yelped in shock and pain as Slade jumped from the body and bed and eagerly moved to the kid’s jacket and utility belt. He could hear Jason getting up.

“Fucking asshole!” Jason shouted at him, but it sounded weak even to Slade’s ears. Like the vigilante was going to go down fast. “What are you?”

Slade started pawing at and trying to pull out the neutralizer he knew almost all human vigilantes kept on their person. Slade had it beneath his paws, but he couldn’t make them work to pull the vial out of the belt.

“You…” he looked up and saw that Jason’s eyes were widening. “Fuck me!”

Moving out of his way, Slade felt more relief than he probably should have as Jason pulled out the small bottle and drank it immediately. He also pulled out a cell phone and dialed someone. “Timmy? Those things are poison. That’s why he used those stupid little thorny spheres.” He paused and his breathing started to sound strained. “I took it, but I don’t know if it was enough or—”

When the young man passed out, Slade did the only thing he could do. He laid atop his chest, right over his heart, his muzzle facing Jason’s face. He felt for the heartbeat and he sniffed for the breathing. If either of those things stopped, he’d know immediately. Not that he’d be able to do much.

Not that he cared.

The kid had done him a favor though, so it only seemed right he do what he could to see The Red Hood through this little mess. It was only fifteen minutes later that Slade heard the apartment door open followed by the urgent footsteps of four individuals. Slade crawled back under the bed before they could see him and watched the feet of Robin, Red Robin, Nightwing and Batman surround Jason.

Slade still hated being a cat, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the weight and warmth of Jason’s hand stroking his ears or scratching beneath his chin. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be stuck as a damned cat, but it had already been four days.

The vigilante wasn’t resting near as much as he had the first two days, but Slade was reluctant to leave his side. He told himself he wasn’t worried about the young man. He even told himself it was the cat’s instincts messing with his own, but really, he’d liked what he’d seen from Jason.

The Red Hood might have been cruel and violent, something that didn’t bother him at all, but Jason Todd was compassionate and determined. He spent his evenings working on puzzles, brain games, or even crocheting. He’d mumbled to his older brother that it was to keep his hands dexterous, even though Dick hadn’t said anything to make him so defensive.

His taste in movies was a little boring for Slade, but there had been a few that he enjoyed watching from some perch or other. The ones with the alien hunter had been his favorites.

“Hey, Kitty, did you eat?” Jason asked as he moved his scratching fingers to the scruff of Slade’s neck.

Slade _hated_ being a cat, but getting to know the new vigilante of Gotham had at least been worth the forced R&R. He ignored his own purring and decided that when he eventually became a human again, he’d need to reintroduce himself properly.

He closed his eyes and purred while Jason continued to stroke his fur.


End file.
